Readers of this blog won’t be seeing my posts for a few weeks because I’m taking some family leave to care for my mom, who is recovering from surgery. We hope all will go very well — but this experience puts me for the first time in what’s being called the “sandwich generation.” There’s even a LoHud blog called In the Middle that deals with the topic. The term applies to people in their 30s, 40s and 50s who are responsible for their own kids while also helping their aging parents. My daughter is still a toddler and I’ll be taking care of my mom, who is in her 70s.

I am grateful that I am able to take the time off work (Thanks for the Family and Medical Leave Act, former President Clinton!), and also grateful that my mom moved to this area more than two years ago to help me with Pumpkin. This would have been much harder if I had to travel to my hometown of Niagara Falls. I can’t imagine how disruptive it would be for Pumpkin if she had to leave home for several weeks or, alternately, for me to be away from her for all that time. Just tonight, I had to sing her lullaby over a cell phone from my mom’s hospital room. (After apologizing in advance to her roommate!)

How are the rest of you Parents’ Place readers coping with your own sandwich generation experiences?

This is a belated post about Easter. We’ve had a busy week in our family. My mom went into the hospital in New York on Wednesday for surgery and I’ve been down there every day. But I wanted to put my thoughts out here on Easter and our traditions because this year they were tested — and stood up to the test.

We learned last month that my mom would be having surgery in March, but we didn’t know which date. This immediately put our usual plans for Easter in flux. For the past three years, my mom and my husband’s two sisters and parents have gathered at our house. The first time was the year I was pregnant with the Pumpkin. It was a wonderful day. We were so joyful with anticipation of the baby. And I was so excited to share my family’s traditional Polish Easter recipes with my husband’s Italian family. (Even if I had to keep going outside to get fresh air to clear up my morning sickness.) The next year was even more special. Pumpkin, who was born three months early, had been forbidden from contact with other kids until she was 15 pounds — a milestone she had just reached around Easter. Easter 2006 was the first time she met her cousins. Last year was special, too, as Pumpkin participated in an egg hunt for the first time, and enjoyed chocolate Easter bunny for the first time.

So, when the complication of the surgery came up this year, I was initially reluctant to cancel Easter. We hoped my mom would be a few weeks past her surgery and ready to celebrate. Then, a series of events put those hopes on hold. Her surgery ended up moving to the end of March. My mother-in-law got sick with a condition she’s still recovering from. And my sister-in-law’s family had some troubles of their own. No one was up for a big Easter celebration outside their own homes. My first reaction to the breakup of our usually big party of nine adults and six kids was to wonder whether it would be worth the trouble of cooking for the smaller gathering of my husband, my mom, myself and Pumpkin. We contemplated going out to a brunch, but in the end, I decided to make the feast.

Last Saturday, the Pumpkin and I went down to the Yonkers Miasarnia on Lockwood Avenue and bought a WHOLE Polish ham and a kielbasa as well as a poppy-seed coffee cake and a babka. That night, we dyed Easter eggs and I baked the cake part of our annual bunny cake. (My mom made the boiled frosting the next morning and applied the coconut and licorice whiskers and jellybean eyes.)  I got up early on Easter and got the ham in the oven and peeled and chopped potatoes. I prepped the asparagus for roasting in the oven while the ham rested. Shortly before the ham was ready, I started boiling the sauage for the traditional Barscz, or white Polish Easter soup. It’s a cream soup made with the broth of Polish sausage that I’ve eaten nearly every Easter of my life since childhood. Making it for Pumpkin got me thinking about how tradition-bound we become when we become parents. It’s not Easter for me without Barscz — and it makes me happy to imagine that one day Pumpkin will feel the same way.

Julie’s Barscz

1 loop of traditional kielbasa
3 tablespoons flour
2 eggs, room temperature
1 pint heavy cream
1/4 cup cider vinegar
horseradish to taste
hard-boiled eggs
roasted Polish ham slices

Slice kielbasa into 2-inch pieces and boil until skin starts to pop. Remove from water. Add flour to cold water in a separate cup until it’s smooth. Add to the boiling sausage broth and cook for a few minutes. In a Pyrex cup or similar vessel, place eggs and beat. Start adding broth a few teaspoons at a time, beating all the while in order to “temper” the eggs. The idea is to get them to a warm temperature without cooking or curdling them. Add eggs to broth. Add heavy cream. Bring near a boil, but don’t boil. Add vinegar to taste. Add salt and white pepper to taste. At this point, we were done. We would then slice up the eggs and sausage and ham in a bowl, pour on the Barscz and throw in a dollop of horseradish. Yum! You might, however, opt to add the horseradish to the pot of soup for a less strong flavor. Either way, this is what the final result looks like:

And, to put the passage of time in perspective for us parents, here is Pumpkin’s first Easter and her most recent:

Heck, everybody’s got stress. It’s just that the most stressed people I know happen to be parents in single-parent or blended family situations. So, I figured I would share this story that I came across on the newswire from Woman’s Day magazine.

I added the emphasis in the text below for effect. I mean, we certainly don’t have a monopoly on stress. My colleague and friend, Noreen O’Donnell, says she’s written on this, and that there’s a direct correlation between stress and the amount of control you have in your life — not necessarily the number of stressors you have to grapple with.

Fair enough. But it seems to me that parents have additional worries — and are more likely to feel less in control — than your average citizen. More so for single or divorced parents, who have that and more stressors to boot. That’s just me.

But see what you think:

From the editors of Woman’s Day magazine
According to the annual Stress in America report from the American Psychological Association, extreme stress strikes a third of Americans regularly, with one in five getting hit a whopping 15 days out of the month.
Of course, there’s the everyday anxiety that’s caused by a looming work deadline or too-busy schedule, and then there’s the big-time stress that comes with a major life-changing event — like divorce or dealing with a chronic illness. Coping with both requires similar techniques and habits. Woman’s Day magazine outlines a plan that will reduce stress in your life now — and help you prep for the big stuff later.
• Pinpoint your biggest stressor: Go through a day or two with a pen and paper handy, and jot down everything that stresses you out as it happens. OR sit back (when you’re relaxed) and visualize your typical day; make a list of all the things you dread doing. Part of what gets people about stress is that it feels uncontrollable. When you get specific and have a concrete list, life starts to feel manageable. Decide what really gets your adrenaline going, and focus on changing that first.
• Cut back on one thing: If your issue is that you’ve got too much to do around the house between the cooking, cleaning, taking caring of the dog, and shuttling kids to school and activities, choose one night (or two or three) that you’ll order dinner out or pick up a prepared meal at the grocery store. In many cases, being overscheduled is the culprit so figure out what you can say no to.
• Prioritize: Make a list of what has to be done by this morning, the end of the day and the end of the week. Focus on what needs to be finished fist, then move down the list. Often what makes us panic is the big picture – not the three things we have to get done by today, but the 17 things we have to do by the end of the week.
With four steps down you can make these anti-stress moves part of your everyday schedule.
• Move: Regular daily exercise can lower levels of stress hormones
• Pop on headphones: Any music lover knows that listening to your favorite tunes can make you less tense almost immediately
• Chat on the phone with a friend: It keeps your social bonds strong, which gives you an overall feeling of support and belonging.
• Take a deep belly breath: Abdominal breathing increases the amount of oxygen in your blood, triggering the brain to decrease the concentration of stress hormones.

I knew it would start sooner or later. It still stinks.

On Wednesday, I drove my son to school and, as is our norm, I parked in the lot and we walked into the building together. This has been something of a routine when he’s with me that we’ve done since pre-K, through various school buildings. In past, we’ve chatted a bit, joked with each other and I’ve waited with him until the bell rang and he had to get to class.

This time, he walked in ahead of me, and started talking to some friends, seemingly oblivious to my presence. I called out to him, he looked, I said, “bye?” He replied by sheepishly giving an unenthusiastic wave, clearly embarrassed. So I left, heart wounded.

I’ve always known there would come a time when he’d not want to have his dad there when he was with friends. I figured it out early on, in kindergarten, when he first asked me not to hug him goodbye in front of his classmates. I understood.

But somehow this got to me a bit. Probably that’s because it’s an indication of things to come, the years ahead when he will spend more and more time out with friends than at home playing X-Box or watching a movie with is dad, or out at the park playing ball or sled riding in the winter with his old man.

Obviously, it has to be that way, and it should be that way.

But for now, it just stinks.

Toy guns are often a matter of controversy for parents. As a kid I had toy guns, but at some point my father decided that wasn’t a good idea. He didn’t want my youngest brother, 15 years my junior, to play with toy guns and banned them from the house. Of course my youngest brother then turned sticks and anything else he could get his hands on into toy guns.After some children were shot by police because they had wielded realistic-looking toys, toy-gun makers were required to make their products readily distinguishable from the real thing through the use of bright colors. One gun manufacturer, though, seems to be intent on blurring that line with its real guns that come in bright colors. Lauer Custom Weaponry, which ran into trouble in New York City in 2006 with its guns that looked like toys, is now upping the ante with a line of paints it calls ‘The Bloomberg Collection” that can be used to disguise guns.The colors by the way, are named for the city’s five boroughs: Manhattan red, Bronx rose, Brooklyn blue, Queens green and Staten Island orange.Two New York state legislators are proposing a law to counter the company. Assemblymen Mike Spano and Joseph Lentol D-Brooklyn want to make it against the law to attempt to disguise guns. The proposal would make it a class D felony to conceal the original color or surface of a real gun.What do you think?   

Imagine taking a picture of each person in your family once a year in the same pose. Now imagine doing it for 25 years. That’s what Diego Goldberg of Buenos Aires, Argentina, did in an amazing photo essay. It starts in 1976 with Diego and his wife, Susy. In 1977, Nicolás comes into the world. And the next year comes Matías. Sebastián is born in 1983. The photos continue to the present so you can see both parents and all three young men, now grown. It’s breathtaking in its simplicity (all the photos are black-and-white face-forward head-and-shoulders pictures) and poignancy. Check it out through this link.

I have taken, conservatively, at least 8,000 pictures since Pumpkin was born in 2005. But I haven’t began a project as ambitious as this. I am thinking about it now, though. (Hopefully the photos of me in the future will show me getting thinner and thinner!)

Thanks to Photojojo! for the tip.

Some days it’s easy. Other days, well …

So, the eighth-grader who was punished with pretty harsh measures for buying a bag of Skittles from a classmate against school rules has been cleared of wrongdoing. Unfortunately, the reprieve didn’t come soon enough to allow him to attend an honor society dinner he missed as part of the punishment. If you didn’t see the earlier post, young Michael Sheridan of Connecticut drew the wrath of school officials because of his love for fruit-flavored candy. He initially was suspended from school and was stripped of his class vice president title. His mom raised a stir, which turned into a media frenzy, and the authorities backed down. Here is the New Haven Register story on the aftermath. And here is a feel-good follow-up on Michael’s new celebrity — and the Mars candy company’s promise to give the boy a lifetime supply of Skittles.

So, last week I bought Pumpkin her first outfit of the spring: A darling sunflower dress with cute matching shoes and sweater at babyGap. My mom bought her the matching hat and purse. The price of all this cuteness? Let’s just say more than $100. Ah, but it’s her Easter outfit, you see. That’s how I can justify it. And because we aren’t seeing the whole family for Easter this year, I’ll be able to put her in it again a month and a half later for her birthday party. Such are my rationalizations. (And, in just three springs, it’s become a tradition to buy Pumpkin’s Easter dress at babyGap.)

I know I have spent too much on Pumpkin’s clothes in the past, at least by my husband’s and mom’s measures. But I think my sin has been more in the quantity than the quality. (Does a toddler really need 14 outfits?) I think babyGap and Gymboree offer pretty reasonable prices for very well-made clothes that hold up in the wash. And I always look for sales when possible.

At least I don’t shop at Boden! That’s what got me on this topic in the first place. I have the Boden catalog in my house, and, it must be said: The clothes are just wonderful. But wow: $28 for a T-shirt for a toddler? $30 for twill shorts? I confess I am tempted by the “Fun Applique Dress,” at right, which is nearly irresistible (and nearly affordable at $38). And, I really, really don’t shop at crewcuts, where a seersucker wrap skirt is $48 and a madras dress is $78!

What are your secret shopping indulgences when it comes to your kids? And is this something unique to parents of daughters — or do moms of sons also go nuts for cute outfits for their little ones?

I’m doing a report in time for Earth Day on the cost of going “Green.” I’m hoping to explore the choices consumers make to spend more money on environmentally friendly products even though there are cheaper conventional alternatives. This can include everything from organic milk to CFLs to chlorine-free bathtub cleaner to the Toyota Prius.

As a mom, I find myself thinking a lot about this issue because I worry about the cumulative exposure to toxins, pesticides and chemicals I can help Pumpkin avoid by doing my part to shop Green. But, there is no way around it, some of these options are pricier. I wonder if the cost is enough to limit the spread of this trend to people with more disposable income. (I know I find myself shying away from buying all organic produce because of the cost.)

Give me a call at 914-666-6189 if you want to be interviewed for my story. (I’d love your thoughts on this!) You can also e-mail me at jalterio@lohud.com. I need to hear from you this week to make my deadline.

Also, in my research on this topic, I came across this neat contest that Whole Foods is running. They are urging young people to create a video about making the planet “a greener place.” So, if you have a preteen or teenage videophile, this might be a fun way to channel his or her energy.

One day I am at the grocery store picking up a bottle of apple juice (very popular with the Pumpkin), and my usual brand-name juice is sold out. I look at the store brand and read the label more carefully than usual to make sure it doesn’t have added sugar, etc. I quickly notice a stamp that says the juice was made from concentrate from China. I am not too thrilled about that — not because of a kneejerk bias toward all Chinese products, but because I worry about what kind of pesticides are in use in foreign countries that have been outlawed in the United States. So, I keep looking, and wow, I soon discover that almost every apple juice bottle contains juice concentrate from China, regardless of brand name. And, if it’s not China, it’s another country — even an organic juice contains concentrate from Turkey. The only juice I can find that promises 100 percent U.S. apples is Mott’s Natural Apple Juice.

I learned last year when researching an article on the farm bill that New York is the No. 2 state in the country for apples. Apple growing is a $185 million business here in New York. Yet, here I am, a suburban New York mother, living in a state positively teeming with apples — and I almost can’t find juice made with U.S. apples, let alone local apples.

Finding the healthiest food for your child — that is, food with lots of nutrients but without harmful ingredients — can be a real challenge at the grocery store. I have pretty much rooted out everything with high-fructose corn syrup (with the exception of ketchup, without which Pumpkin would never eat eggs). I buy organic milk. We serve meals made with fresh vegetables every day. (Today’s dinner: a cup of red lentil soup with escarole and a slice of homemade whole-wheat cheese pizza.) And yet, I can’t help but feel frustrated when I think about having filled Pumpkin’s sippy cup with apple juice from China for nearly two years now.

This summer, we’re planning to join a local farm’s community-based agriculture program, which will give us a weekly share of the harvest. We do what we can. But when I think back to the recent slew of recalls from China, I think about all the dead animals who ate the tainted pet food. I plan to do more research on food safety. I want to find out how vulnerable we are to tainted food. Maybe the apple juice from China is perfectly fine. The U.S. Apple Association says it is. I’d love to hear from other parents about your own feelings on this. Do you check labels? How do you feel about your kids eating food made in China?

Michael Sheridan, an eighth-grader in Connecticut, bought a bag of Skittles in the hallway of his middle school. Because this is against school rules, he’s been suspended from school, will miss an honors student dinner and will have to give up his title as class vice president. You can read all about it in the New Haven Register.

My initial reaction was: “Wow, is the school nuts? This seems pretty extreme over candy, a food all of us as adults enjoyed in childhood without anyone turning it into a federal case.” Then, I started thinking about federal cases, in particular the one that’s unfolding here in New York. There are some interesting parallels going on. Eliot Spitzer broke some laws and he’s going to lose his office over it. But, the question must be asked: Are the school’s rules regarding candy as reasonable as our nation’s laws regarding money transfers and prostitution? In other words: Should a student be punished as severely as Sheridan is being punished for breaking rules that weren’t even rules a few short years ago? (Plus, it’s candy! Moms buy their kids candy! It’s harmless — unless you happen to eat it in large quantities, but that’s another issue. I wonder if this school that’s so keen to prevent children from ingesting one stray sugar molecule also has fully funded its gym programs?)

(I want to add: I don’t think the child should receive no punishment. After all, he did break a rule. But the punishment meted out seems in excess of the crime. Missing a dinner to honor his academic achievements seems counterproductive and stripping him of his class title seems overzealous. The analogy with Spitzer would be, I think, if he had been caught speeding. Sure, he would have been embarassed and met with censure for breaking the law. But would he have had to resign as governor? I don’t think so. The punishment should fit the crime.)

Eliot Spitzer, and his apology for an activity he is yet to name, did not come up at my house last night.                  Now that could mean the kids didn’t know about it because the news broke too late in the school day to become gossip there. And then they went home to the Nintendo Wii, which was still filling the house with the sounds of a furious jungle fire fight when I got home.                 On the other hand, maybe they knew but were were too busy torturing each other and their parents to raise the subject.                    In any case that gives me time to think about what to say when this conversation does play out. As I write this, I have no idea what to say, but that’s OK.  In a little while, I’m going to be one of several reporters here working on a story about how parents plan to talk to their kids on this very subject.                  That’s a great thing about this job: not just talking to folks about big news – whether it’s the shooting of John Lennon, or September 11 and its aftermath – but listening to them trying to make sense of the events. Even if a lot of the time it doesn’t.                   After listening to some of the morning radio shows today – and the trashy level of  discussions there –  it’s clearly a good idea to have that conversation with your kids. What are you going to say?  

I’m working on the computer, and Pumpkin comes over to me for a little visit. When she opens her mouth to talk, I see her tongue is kind of a blue-green. I ask her to stick out her tongue to get a better look, and wow, it’s really pretty colorful. I then say: “What did you eat?” Pumpkin: “Play-Doh.” I say: “Show me.” She takes me by the hand and into the kitchen, where my mom is chopping vegetables for dinner and had set up Pumpkin at the table to amuse herself with Play-Doh in the meantime. Sure enough, there’s a big chunk of blue-green Play-Doh on the table. I ask: “How much did you eat?” Pumpkin: “Big! Big!” I look at the box and read labels warning that Play-Doh is not a food, but conversely, is also nontoxic. Feeling somewhat reassured, I give a little lecture on Play-Doh’s lack of desirability as a culinary experiment.

Later tonight, Pumpkin’s cheeks are looking really, really rosy and her upper lip looks a little swollen. Maybe it’s just the effect of the half-hour walk we took in the chilly late-afternoon air? Or, maybe, it’s the Play-Doh and some kind of allergic reaction? I Google “Poison Control Hotline” and get the number: 1-800-222-1222. (I think I’ll memorize it, now.) My husband talks to the nice lady and she assures us that Play-Doh is not a hazard, especially if our daughter has been eating and drinking, which she has. She’s asleep upstairs now, and her Play-Doh adventure is hopefully over. (Interestingly enough, the frequently asked questions, or FAQ, section on the Play-Doh Web site does NOT include the question: “What do I do if my child eats Play-Doh?” Although, it does include the information that Play-Doh is “primarily a mixture of water, salt and flour.”)

Even though eating Play-Doh isn’t harmful, this experience was a surprise for me because I thought Pumpkin knew better. She’s 2 and a half, and well past the oral stage. I thought she could distinguish between food and, well, everything else. It makes me aware that I have to be even more vigilant. And, of course, no more Play-Doh with lax supervision.

What have your kids eaten that gave you the shudders?

When I started writing here I thought that blogging as a single parent would offer a needed voice on our parenting blog. I hope I’ve been right. But something’s changed.

Several people have asked me if I am truly a single parent — my girlfriend among them. Well, yes and no. I am divorced and therefore unmarried. And I am a parent. But am I single? In one sense, yes. In another, no, as in, I’m spoken for. So it sent me on a quest for a more accurate label. It didn’t take much thought to figure out that my girlfriend and I have a blended family, as I’ve blogged about before: We live together with our children from prior relationships.

But do I have a right to the single-parent tag? I share some issues with truly single parents, and not others. I seem to share all the issues with parents in blended families.

Ultimately, I’m not so sure it matters. My point in joining this blog was that there were many of us out here living with children in non-traditional homes, and that continues to be the case. That also seems to be the issue — and the point. I also have several years of experience as a truly single parent, which led me to this point.

Hopefully, all of us who find ourselves single with kids will make the same journey from single parent to blended family. With any luck, that transition will lead us to a traditional blended family of onetime single parents.

But perhaps that’s a blog for another day.